


Maybe You'll Grow Wings and Learn How to Fucking Fly

by TheHorrorsOfButt



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Attempted Sexual Assault, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Homophobic Language, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Possibly Unrequited Love, Sad Ending, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-23 06:44:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17075354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHorrorsOfButt/pseuds/TheHorrorsOfButt
Summary: Karkat comes out to Dave. Ever since then, they've grown a whole lot closer.Then Karkat meets Dave's brother, and everything goes downhill from there.





	Maybe You'll Grow Wings and Learn How to Fucking Fly

**Author's Note:**

> TW for attempted rape, general implications of abuse, and slurs.

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you've always been embarrassed by how much you cry. That you can't get through a single emotional moment without balling your fucking eyes out is a constant source of misery for you.

So, as you sit next to your best friend, Dave Strider, you focus primarily on _not_ crying, and on not embarrassing yourself in general. This is already going to suck pretty fucking hard.

Dave looks at you with a mixture of concern and impatience. He tends to hide his emotions, but not for you. You're not sure how that makes you feel.

"Well? What were you going to tell me?" he asks, cutting through the silence. You swallow hard, gripping the sheets on the bed until your knuckles are white.

"Dave, you've been a real dumbass," you let out.

His brows wrinkle in confusion. "What?"

"Fuck, wait," you say, trying to get a hold of your thoughts. God, you're terrible. "What I meant was, uh..." You let the sentence trail off, putting your hands over your face.

You'd been stressing about doing this for awhile, now. Your other friend, Kanaya, told you to take deep breaths, and then sort of just spit it the fuck out. So you take a few breaths, and then you get to the point.

"Dave, I'm not straight," you tell him from behind your hands. You don't want to see his reaction. "I don't know what the fuck I am, but I'm not straight."

There's silence, and then you hear a slow exhale from next to you. Finally, Dave says, "Oh." You don't know what to do with that, so you look at him. He's staring at you with an expression you can't quite read. He looks surprised, that's for sure, but thankfully you can't see anything in his eyes that resembles disgust.

"Fuck does 'Oh' mean?" you demand.

He straightens up a little. "Oh, well, I just, uh, I'm um," he stutters before finally settling on an actual fucking phrase, "I'm glad you told me."

"I was scared to," you say.

He looks surprised at that. "What? Why?"

"Because you're always telling these inane fucking jokes, and fucking saying 'fag' and shit like that."

"I-I didn't mean anything—"

"I know you didn't, jackass. That doesn't change the fact that it still really fucking hurts, hearing something like that from a friend." Against your will, you feel tears welling up in your eyes. Goddammit.

He looks alarmed. "Shit, I'm sorry, Karkat. I just didn't think about it. Fuck, I'm sorry."

He's holding you, now, and you're so fucking embarrassed now that you might explode if you weren't busy weeping. In fairness to you, however, you think you see a few tears coming down his cheeks, too.

"Listen, man," he says, holding you close to let you rest your head on his shoulder, "you're, like, my best fuckin' bro ever. No matter what, I love you, alright?"

You almost punch him for using the word "bro" in this situation, but you're too happy to.

Your assuredly platonic embrace lasts another minute or two. You feel closer to Dave than you ever have, and you're not sure how to feel about that, but you have a feeling it's a good thing.

* * *

Dave doesn't make those jokes anymore, at least around you. At some points, you can tell that he's about to tell an insensitive joke, but then he corrects himself pretty quickly. You appreciate that, a lot. You find yourself trusting him more, and in turn he trusts you.

Slowly but surely, he lets you learn about his brother. In the past, Dave really seemed to think that "Bro" was someone to look up to. You always found him invariably fucking creepy. Every time you were alone with him, he would talk to you in this unsettling, _hungry_ voice, like a serial killer or something, and you would get the fuck out of there pretty quickly.

Dave always just said his brother liked to scare people. You certainly agreed with that.

As your relationship with Dave deepens, however, you discover that he is also scared of his brother, too.

You're hanging out together at your house when he tells you that his brother makes him sword fight.

"It's not _that_ weird, right?" he asks you desperately. You eye him with an incredulous look on your face.

"No, no, it's not fucking weird, Karkat. It's for self-defense," he stammers out. "If I didn't have Bro, I wouldn't know what to do if someone tried to hurt me." He talks like he's rehearsed this conversation. Like someone else persuaded him to think this way.

Your eyes soften. "Dave, doesn't _he_ hurt you?" you ask. This earns an uncomfortable glare from Dave.

"L-look, can we just go back to, y'know, chillin' like villains? Forget I even said anything."

In the future, you will wish that you had said more, done more. As has been proven time and time again, Past Karkat is a miserably stupid piece of shit.

So you just get back to "chillin' [sic] like villains," but you don't stop thinking about what Dave said.

* * *

Broderick eyes you a little too intensely (he always does) as you walk past him toward the bathroom. When you come back out of the bathroom, he's still fucking standing there. You tell yourself to just ignore him, but he doesn't let you.

"You kids havin' fun?" he asks with a deep, vocal-fry register typical of when he wants to "scare" you, as Dave puts it. Which is to say, whenever he talks to you.

"Yeah," you respond sheepishly. "Yeah, we're having fun." You start walking fast, intending to blow right past him, but he shifts his body ever so slightly to block your path.

"Where's the fire, Vantas?" he smirks. "Don't tell me you're scared of me."

You stop yourself from yelling obscenities at him. You've gotten better at controlling the urge to cuss someone out, but this guy is setting off every fucking red flag he possibly can. "Of course not."

"Oh, really?" he asks, inching toward you. "That's nice."

Your bones are 98.8% ready to jump out of your fucking body at this point, but you realize pretty quickly that you can't go anywhere. He's blocking the only way out of the hallway.

"You know, Karkat," he drawls, tilting his head with a strange, drunken grin and getting way too close to your face. "Dave wouldn't even know if we did anyth—."

Okay, _fuck_ that.

You try to dash past him, but he's faster than you. He throws you against the wall and reaches for your belt. Panicking, you kick at his legs, but he stops you. You yell out. Thankfully, Dave hears you.

"Yo, Karkat!" Dave yells from down the hall. "Everything okay?"

Broderick sighs, and let's you go. "Don't you _dare_ fucking tell anyone about this," he warns you.

You walk back to Dave's room stiffly, like a zombie.

"What was that about?" Dave asks when you enter.

_Your brother tried to fucking rape me. Dave, he's fucking dangerous,_ you want to say.

Instead, you say, "Nothing. Tripped over one of the five billion fucking things in your hallway." You want to tell him, but you're scared. You're so fucking scared.

You try to drown out the guilt and horror for the rest of the night. Dave notices while you're both playing Mario Kart that you're even worse than usual, and he also notices when you start crying.

"Just fucking drop it, Strider," you finally snap at him when he asks you. He drops the subject reluctantly.

You sometimes see Broderick poke his head through the door to the room. After awhile, you stop looking, but you still feel his eyes on you when you hear the door creak open.

* * *

You insist that you and Dave always hang out at your house after that, though you don't tell him why. You haven't told anyone about this; not Kanaya, not your parents, no one. You feel like shit, but you're terrified of Broderick Strider.

Eventually, Dave does admit to you that Broderick is a fucking creep, although not in those words.

"I never really examined it before, but like, I don't know, it's like he expects me not to have a personality or something. And the sex jokes, well, they're just not funny anymore. They actually make me pretty fucking uncomfortable."

_Jokes,_ you think bitterly.

"What do you mean?" you ask, feigning ignorance.

"Well, you know, sometimes he jokes about, like..." he trails off. "Nah, nevermind. I'm just being weird."

You swallow heavily. "Well, just, you never know," you say aimlessly.

Dave turns to you, confused and a little suspicious. "What d'you mean, 'you never know?'"

"Nothing," you respond, suddenly very interested in the carpet pattern in this room.

You just don't want Dave to be hurt.

_Who are you kidding? You don't want _yourself_ to be hurt. You don't give a shit about Dave._

Shut the fuck up. 

* * *

Dave tells you a week later that he's moving.

"Where?" you ask with bated breath.

"Texas," he replies, a frown forming on his face.

You're shocked into silence.

"Three weeks," he continues.

You let out a distressed "fuck."

As Dave goes home, life apparently decides your wounds are not properly salted yet, because you think you might be in love with Dave Strider.

* * *

You've always been embarrassed by how much you cry.

And yet, as you stand next to the moving van in front of Dave's apartment building, you cry without shame, because you have so many more reasons to be ashamed of yourself than your penchant for tears.

Dave stands across from you, and you know for a fact that he's trying not to let any tears leave his eyes, because his piece of shit _brother_ wouldn't approve.

As soon as Broderick goes back into the building, you and Dave are embracing, and both sobbing.

It's rare for Dave to cry so hard that he can barely speak. He doesn't often cry at all, and yet here he is.

"I just," he forces out through sobs, "I love you, man. I r-really do. I'll never forget you."

You feel sick. "Dave, there's something I have to tell you. I should have told you this a long time ago—"

Broderick comes back outside, and the two of you separate. The reprehensible fuck can tell you've both been crying. He gives you a nasty sneer, and you've never been more angry in your entire life. You want to fucking kill him.

You don't, though. You help Dave get all his things in the car. You avoid Broderick as best you can, but he's _always_ watching you.

You watch their car drive away, making eye contact with Dave first through the back window, then through the shades. The car gets further away, and you can't see the shades anymore. You watch it drive over the horizon. You can't move. You can't do anything except stare out where the car was.

You don't cry. This is the worst you've ever felt, but you don't cry.

You wonder if you'll ever see Dave again. Maybe you will. Maybe you'll get to apologize for never telling him, that you were just really scared, that you love him. Maybe you'll get to talk about the time when you came out to him, and you were so scared, but he was so sweet and understanding, and how that was so important to you. Maybe you'll come together, and things won't be so scary anymore.

But every "maybe" is another mile they've driven away from you. Maybe you'll grow wings and learn how to fucking fly.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Happy stories don't come to me as easily as sad stories, but I promise in the future there'll be more uplifting shit.
> 
> Feedback is appreciated.


End file.
